Slow Dance
by Alexandra Lyman
Summary: Snow White has planned a large royal ball, but Emma just wants a night alone with her pirate. After all, it's not the dance, it's the partner that counts. Fluffy one shot written for a Tumblr prompt.


**Author: One shot, from a Tumblr prompt "Emma and Hook are having some sort of anniversary and Mary Margaret wants to celebrate with a big ball/celebration, but Hook and Emma just want to spend it by themselves. Fluffy would be nice" and this is what I came up with.**

**Slow Dance**

A royal ball, to celebrate the anniversary of her first royal ball.

"Only my mother," Emma thought, standing stiffly in the middle of the room, afraid to do anything that would wrinkle the enormous taffeta skirt.

It had been a hell of a year, with a pissed-off Snow Queen, the whole Regina/Robin/Marian mess (that she still felt guilty over even though she saved the woman's life, for God's sake), and all the mischief and havoc caused by baby Neal's nanny, since of all people, her parents had to hire Mary Freaking Poppins, and that was another Disney movie she'd never look at the same way again. Toss in a return to the Enchanted Forest, Henry's first date (with a lovely young blonde girl who was a picky eater and who just happened to be Goldilocks, because of course she was), and Emma sometimes felt like she didn't even have time to breathe.

And on top of everything else, there was her complicated, two-steps-forward-and-one-step-back, tentative, uncertain and just plain scary, attempts at an honest to goodness real relationship with Killian Jones a.k.a Captain Hook himself.

Her life was very weird.

The skirt was a deep royal blue, embroidered with silver thread, and it had a matching bodice that was currently sitting on the bed, next to the corset she refused to subject herself to. The lady's maid (she had a lady's maid now), had gone to fetch the seamstress, since without the corset it wouldn't fit her, and Emma had slipped on an old T-shirt so she wasn't standing around in just her bra with the giant skirt.

She wasn't looking forward to the ball. The memory of dancing with Killian, immortalized in Henry's storybook, was something she kept tucked away fondly in her heart. The simple joy of gliding around the dance floor in the arms of the man who loved her so much, even though she had been unable to acknowledge it at the time, it was a moment she cherished. But it was not something she wanted to relive in front of hundreds of people, all staring at her.

But her mother was so excited, picking out the fabric for her dress and pouring over the sketches with the seamstress, sending out calligraphed invitations on gilded paper and hiring musicians from across the land to play. It had grown into A Big Thing, and Emma didn't quite know how to tell her it was Too Much. She thought her father knew what she was thinking, she had seen David eyeing her with a speculative look when Mary Margaret had been going on about having the hairdresser replicate the updo from the picture in the book, but he had stayed quiet and when she had looked over again he had left the room.

Now the day had come, the hall was decorated, the guests were arriving, she hadn't seen Killian all day, and she was standing in the middle of her room in a princess skirt and a Led Zeppelin T-shirt, of all things, feeling that old familiar urge to just _run._

"Swan!"

Emma's head jerked at the sound, floating through the open door that led to the wide stone balcony. Only one person ever called her that, and her heart leapt and she felt the smile break over her face. Picking up the hem of the heavy skirt, she pushed through the gauzy curtains that fluttered in the breeze and leaned over the rail.

"Killian?"

Her room was one story up from the ground, on a secluded side of the castle overlooking an orchard. She heard movement through the trees, large, heavy movement, and he emerged, sitting on the back of a brown horse. Killian looked up at her and gave her a smile and a wink.

"Care to run away with a pirate, Princess?"

Emma laughed, "What are you doing down there? We're supposed to be making our grand entrance in half an hour!"

"Is that what you want, love? Say the word and I'll return this borrowed steed to the stable and wait at your door to escort you down to the ballroom, bow to your parents and make small talk with the half of the kingdom your mother invited."

She grimaced. When he said half the kingdom, he wasn't exaggerating by much, she had seen the guest list. It took up a scroll as long as one of the cash register receipts on that stupid TV show with people who were obsessed with coupons.

"Or," Killian went on, "We can sneak out the back gate on Chewbacca here."

He patted the horse's neck.

"Is his name seriously Chewbacca?" she asked with a skeptical raise of her eyebrow.

"Maybe not, but it's what I've been calling him. Right Chewy?"

Chewbacca tossed his head and neighed, as if he was agreeing with the crazy man sitting on his back. They had watched all the Star Wars movies after their adventure into the past, and Killian had pouted over the fact that she hadn't used Han Solo as his alias. He'd been doubly annoyed when Henry had shown him a picture of the real Prince Charles, _"Obviously you need spectacles, Swan." "Well, at least I came up with something, Mr. My Name Is Prince Um, Uh, Erm."_

"So, which will it be, Princess? Dance at the ball or run out the back gate?"

Emma sighed, resting her hands in her chin. She didn't want to go to the ball, she wanted to sneak off with Killian and have some time alone with him, but, "My mother will be so disappointed."

"Dave said he'd explain things to her."

She frowned, "What do you mean?"

Killian lifted his shoulder in a rueful shrug, "We talked earlier today and he said he thought you were getting too overwhelmed with everything and suggested we skip the ball. He'll take care of covering our absence."

She remembered that her father hadn't grown up in this life of royal trappings with all the associated pomp and circumstance either. He understood the trouble she had with adapting a bit better then her mother.

Emma heard a noise out in the hall, the sound of voices. She had to make a decision, now.

There was a trellis attached to the castle wall next to the balcony. She climbed up onto the wide stone lip and reached for it, hooking her fingers into the iron bars and setting one foot, and then the other onto her makeshift ladder.

In her life she'd climbed out of many windows, foster homes, group houses and even a few squats she'd had to leave in a hurry. The cumbersome skirt didn't slow her down, she knew how to do this fast. She had always been alone though, there had never been anyone waiting for her at the bottom.

Killian maneuvered the horse next to the wall and when she got low enough Emma felt his arms clasp her waist.

"Let go, I've got you."

He pulled her into the saddle, setting her on it sideways.

"Your Highness!"

They both looked up and saw the maid and the seamstress leaning over the balcony and looking down at them with shocked expressions. Emma slid her hands under his coat, wrapping her arms around him. Killian braced her with his bad arm and held the reins in his hand. He flicked them onto Chewy's neck and clicked his tongue, and they were off.

She felt the wind on her face when he urged the horse into a gallop. Emma held tight to Killian and they sailed over a low wall and went straight out the back gate, past the guards who must have been warned by David not to stop them, they merely saluted and she saw them close the gate behind them from over Killian's shoulder.

The lights from the castle receded behind them and they slowed to a gentle trot on the dirt road. Emma closed her eyes, snuggling into Killian's chest. She felt the change in terrain when he guided them off the path and into the woods that surrounded the castle, the horse easily navigating the dips and rises of the uneven ground.

"We're here."

She opened her eyes. Killian slid off Chewy and lifted her down. Emma saw that they were in a small clearing, a tiny meadow hidden in the forest. She lifted her skirt and stepped aside, out of the way of the sharp hooves. He took the reins and looped them around a sturdy branch, then he opened the saddlebag and started rummaging around inside. Killian pulled out a blanket and a package wrapped in cloth.

"Our feast, milady."

Emma spread the blanket out on the grass and unwrapped the package while Killian gave Chewy an apple he produced from the pocket of her coat. She found sandwiches, on rolls that were still warm from the oven, a large bunch of grapes, and a bag of tiny, lacy cookies. It was a far cry from the elaborate spread she knew was laid out in the ballroom back at the castle, but the simple fare was just what she needed.

"Thank you."

She looked up at him. He had dressed for the ball, clad in a long gray coat, white shirt and black pants that weren't made of leather. The beard, which had looked a trifle long and scruffy the day before, was neatly trimmed to the perfect length. She looked back down at the food. He had been ready to escort her to a fancy ball and ready to run away with her, whatever she wanted to do. No, Emma thought, whatever she needed to do.

"Have I told you today that I love you?" she asked.

Killian grinned madly, he seemed unable to stop himself from smiling whenever she said the words he'd waited so long to hear from her.

"No, you haven't. A rather terrible oversight on your part. I'm afraid."

"I love you, Prince Charles."

He rolled his eyes at her, "You can call me that only if you wear that ensemble Leia sported while in Jabba's clutches."

"The metal bikini? Keep dreaming, buddy."

He sat on the blanket next to her and they ate the food, tossing grapes into each other's mouths and passing his flask back and forth. Her aim got worse with the rum, his got better. "Pirate," he said, with a smile she had always secretly thought was rather dashing.

When the sun began to set and darkness started to fall, Killian stood up.

"Shall we start to head back, love?"

Emma shook her head, "No, not yet."

She felt that prickle under her skin, the hum of the magic in her blood. Eyes closed, she held her hands up and pictured what she wanted, and felt sparks shoot out of her fingertips. Emma heard his sharp intake of breath, and she opened her eyes.

Tiny lights floated in the air around them, like a thousand fireflies had suddenly come to life. They bobbed and weaved, dancing through the trees that ringed the clearing, landing in the grass and bouncing back up.

"Have I told you today that I love you?" Killian asked.

"You just did," Emma said with a smile.

He dropped to his knees and shuffled towards her, "Can I say it again?"

She leaned in, "Certainly."

"I love you, Princess Emma."

Their lips met in a soft kiss. Emma put her arms around his neck and pulled him down with her, laying back on the blanket and running her fingers through his thick, dark hair.

Killian propped himself up on his arm and looked down at her.

"I was looking forward to dancing with you again," he admitted.

Emma looked back up at him, thinking about it. When the music started playing they both blinked. She hadn't known her magic could do that.

He looked up at the sky, head turning and trying to find the source of the sounds, "What is this?"

She glanced down at her T-shirt, hearing the familiar chords drifting in the air. That staple of classic rock stations and eighth grade dances, Stairway to Heaven.

"Dance with me, Killian."

She stood up and held her hands out to him. Killian grasped her fingers and got to his feet, head tilted and tapping his hook against his thigh to the beat.

"What dance is this, Swan?"

She set his arms around her waist and circled hers around his neck again, "A slow dance. Follow my lead."

It wasn't an intricate waltz, but the gentle sway back and forth in each other's arms was just as special. It was never about the steps, or the music, it was always about the partner, and Emma knew she had picked the right one, no matter what the dance was.

* * *

"They're not coming?"

David hated the dismay in his wife's voice and he pulled her a little closer, rubbing his hand soothingly on her back.

"Snow, you know she finds these big events difficult."

"I know, but I just..."

He spun her out and back into his arms to the flourish of the music, "You just want her to have everything she never got," he finished.

"Yeah."

She laid her head on his shoulder and they swayed in unison.

"You know she loves you, loves us, and she wants to be here, but she still needs a bit of space."

"We live in a castle with over a hundred rooms," Snow said, a bit of petulance in her voice.

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

She sighed, "I went overboard, didn't I?"

David looked around at the lavish decorations and hundreds of guests, "A bit."

"I wish I could have been there. At her first ball."

"You were there. You were busy robbing me blind, but you were at our daughter's first royal ball."

"Oh, hush," Snow said, her cheeks going pink, "You know, I hadn't really thought about it, but Emma's first royal ball was the night we met."

"I still have the scar," David pointed out.

"Which healed!"

He smiled down into his wife's indignant face, "But the blow to my heart, now that, I have never recovered from."

"So charming."

"Always."

They glided across the dance floor and he caught a glimpse of something that might cheer her up, "You know, someone else is experiencing their first ball tonight."

David turned so Snow could see what he was looking at. Henry was dancing with Goldilocks, or Gigi, as she preferred to be called, both red-faced and nervous, stepping on each other's toes and looking like there was nowhere else they'd rather be.

Snow's face softened at the sight of their grandson.

David smiled. He held his wife close and remembered his conversation earlier that day with Killian. The pirate had come to see him and made a formal request. He had granted his permission, not that it was really necessary to give it, but he understood why the man had wanted his blessing.

And if everything went well between his daughter and Killian Jones tonight, then Snow would have another ball to plan for soon.

* * *

Emma looked down into his blue eyes. A thousand magical lights danced in the air and were reflected in the diamond on the ring he held up to her. She answered his question with one word.

"Yes."

_**the end**_


End file.
